


foxglove and tulips (wrapped around our necks)

by nonbinarywithaknife (littleboxes)



Series: me sobbing about critical role [32]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Platonic Female/Male Relationships, Platonic Soulmates, Pre-Stream (Critical Role), Soulmate-Identifying Marks, he just likes 'em, i have never written this much of either of these two, i think i switched all of the instances i said circus but if i didnt sorry, it's always a bathhouse with this tiefling, please give me feedback on their characters, these two had such a sweet relationship ahhh, turns out it's a carnival not a circus, writing this gave me soft feelings about molly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-03
Updated: 2019-03-03
Packaged: 2019-11-08 18:00:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17985980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littleboxes/pseuds/nonbinarywithaknife
Summary: molly and yasha are soulmates





	foxglove and tulips (wrapped around our necks)

**Author's Note:**

> molly found a feral lady in the woods and said “this is mine now” and the feral lady said, “alright” and also "my name is yasha"  
> /edited 4/20/19

Molly's been with the carnival for a few months, now. He can talk now, which is rather nice, and he's discovered an affinity for bright colors and outrageous patterns that make the others smile and sigh in equal measure.

They've stopped near a small town that's closer to the Ashkeeper Peaks than Molly has ever been ( ~~as far as he knows~~ ), when he finds the pale woman in the woods. Her back is turned to him, and it almost looks like she's praying? Her hair is black, but fades to white at the ends, and is full of braids, beads, and twined leather.

"Are you alright?" is the first thing to come out of his mouth, and she whirls, staring at him with a blank face that's almost more frightening than the great sword strapped to her back, and he can see a multitude of scars across her arms- clearly someone used to defending herself.

"If want, you can come back to the carnival with me. We can get you something to eat, at least," he says, figuring she hasn't actually attacked him yet, and he can’t see any provisions nearby, which is a little worrying.

For a few seconds, he thinks he sees her hand twitch toward her sword, but then she drops out of the tense stance, and tilts her head at him, a spark of life coming into her eyes.

"Give me a moment," she says, in a surprisingly soft voice, and an accent he doesn't recognize. Granted, he doesn’t recognize a lot of things, accent notwithstanding, but still.

She gathers something up from the ground- a book? Journal? and tucks it into a bag on her hip, and then turns to him.

"What is this... carnival, you want to take me to?" she asks.

He grins widely, and the lack of reaction to his fangs is only encouraging. "You've never heard of a carnival! Well, you're in for quite a treat..."

And they walk back towards the hodgepodge of tents that have become his home, ( ~~and could maybe become hers, as well~~ )

When Gustav sees Molly stroll up to him with a monochrome, brick house of a woman with a sword bigger than some of his employees on her back hovering awkwardly behind him, he sighs. Looks her over, notes again the great sword on her back and the quiet confidence of someone who knows exactly how capable of violence they are. By the time he's done, Molly's looking at him with that hopeful look in his eyes, and the woman has tensed.

"What’s your name, Miss?" he asks.

"Yasha." is all he gets in return, in an accent that he doesn’t recognize, which is a feat, given how far and wide he’s traveled. Well, it works.

"Well, it just so happens we're in need of some muscle. If you're up to the task, come see me later," he says, and walks off- he needs to prepare for tonight's show, and also write up some semblance of a contract, but he trusts Molly’s instincts. He has good ones, when it comes to the strays he brings in. Probably because he was one of them himself, not too long ago.

And that's how Yasha joins a carnival.

Slowly, Yasha and Molly get closer. One night, as they lay together in their tent, he tells her about waking up in suffocating darkness and clawing his way out, about _empty_ , and the tattoos he covered in flowers but can’t forget, and she whispers back, haltingly, but sincere, about a murdered wife, about losing herself, about losing _time_ , but gaining faith.

And they get closer.

Then one day, after months of sharing a tent, of sharing their pasts, Molly has enough coin saved up for a trip to the bathhouse, and of course he drags Yasha along.

It's only enough for one bath, but it's big enough to share. Yasha freezes, though, as he pulls off the high collared coat he usually wears.

"Yasha? I know i'm pretty, but I didn’t think I was your type," he jokes, concerned at her sudden stillness.

She reaches out a hand and runs it down the white flowers that twine down the side of his neck. They're subtle, probably the most understated tattoo he has, and not very noticeable unless one were to look for them. They’re white foxglove, and they’re his soulmate mark. He doesn’t think about them often, doesn’t want to know about whoever he used to be was destined to be with.

"That's-" she starts, and then pulls her hand away and pull up her shirt. On her waist, there are the same white, bell shaped flowers, waving like bells, and Molly can only blink, shocked, but not upset.

His eyes wide, they flick up to her neck, "But, you have-," and looks at the tiny, faded, orange poppy cradled in the hollow of her neck.

And then she pulls some of her hair back, and curling around her ear are three purple tulips, just a shade darker than the lavender of his skin, and he thinks of those same flowers twirling around the end of his tail.

He takes a deep breath, and sends her a smile. "Well, there's no rule saying we _have_ to date, or get married, or any of that. We don't have to do anything we don't want to, and I'll be honest," he winks, "I'm not looking to settle down anytime soon."

Yasha smiles. "I'm," she pauses, clears her throat, "I am glad it is you, Molly, I-" she blushes, faintly. "You are a treasured friend, and I’m- glad you found me."

Molly leans over and wraps an arm around her, and with an uncharacteristic seriousness, says, "I’m rather glad to have found you too."

 

**Author's Note:**

> -yasha: white foxglove, molly: purple tulips, zuala: orange poppy, none of these have meanings, i just like them cause their Pretty  
> -also, just to lay out the marks work:  
> everyone has a unqiuely colored soulmark, usually a flower.  
> when your soulmate dies, the color fades.  
> you can have more than one soulmate but it's not common the nein are just That Special  
> so yeah here u go this is a series now @amaronith, i hope u like it


End file.
